How Not to Rescue Spider-Man
by ardj18
Summary: The Avengers think Deadpool's kidnapped Spider-man, and they don't react particularly well. Turns out there's a couple surprises in store for them. No one's getting out of this without a headache. Spideypool and lowkey superfamily.


Later, Peter would blame the Avengers' overprotectiveness for his disastrous day. Tony would blame Deadpool. Steve just had a headache. But they all agreed that it started with the giant murderous robots.

"Well that looks like the last of them. Avengers, report."

"Ugh," Clint groans.

"He's fine," Natasha clarifies. "He's just being a baby." There's the muffled sound of a kick and then Clint yells, "What the hell, Nat?"

"I'm still at the Tower," Bruce cuts in. "Hulk wasn't needed."

"I'm still flying and as devilishly handsome as always," says Tony. "Heading back to central rendezvous now."

There's a pause.

"Spider-man?" Steve asks. Silence. "Spider-man, report!" Nothing. "Has anyone seen Spider-man?"

"He was over near Central Park last I heard. Wilson went to help him," Natasha muses.

"Deadpool's here? And we let him near arach-kid?" Tony mutters something under his breath. "That's it, I'm gonna head over and see what's up."

"We'll all meet you there."

* * *

"Any sign of him?"

"There's some blood, which isn't good. But he's not here." Tony glances around again. "Oh goody, a security camera! J, pull up the feed from that camera and see if Spidey's on it."

Everyone waits impatiently while JARVIS does so. "It appears, Sir, that Deadpool has taken Spider-man."

"What? Send it to my phone, J." Tony pulls his phone from who knows where in his suit and taps on it a few times. A holographic video appears, showing Spider-man and Deadpool finishing off two robots, heaps of metal already littering the ground and webbed to walls. Suddenly, a third robot appears out of nowhere and Spider-man goes flying into a damaged building, his head smacking hard against a window sill and his arm landing on a jagged piece of metal.

"He's injured!" Steve cries.

"Probably cracked ribs and a concussion," Natasha agrees. "And his arm's sliced up."

In the video, Deadpool's body language shifts. He's suddenly focused and terrifying, slicing apart the final three robots efficiently before rushing to Spider-man's side. He feels for a pulse before scooping him up and hitting a button on his belt, vanishing.

"He kidnapped Spidey!"

"We need to find them, now."

Natasha shakes her head minutely. "I'm not sure it's that bad. I don't think Deadpool will harm him."

Tony waves the phone at her. "He just kidnapped an injured and unconscious Spider-man! He's gonna finish him off while he's out of it!"

Clint cocks his head to the side. "If he was gonna kill him, he wouldn't have saved him from the robots."

"Well maybe he just wants to do it himself! Or maybe he wants to torture him! Or maybe he's looking to take advantage of him while he's vulnerable!"

Steve looks slightly ill. "We don't know what his plans are, but Deadpool is dangerous. We need to find them to make sure Spider-man is safe."

"How?" Clint asks. "He just teleported away."

"If he took Spider-man directly from the fight, he would still have his comm," Natasha points out.

"Right!" exclaims Tony. He starts tapping at his phone again. "It's turned off, but it has a tracker in it. The tracker might be damaged from the hit, and the signal looks a little weak, but I should be able to find it. It might take a minute though."

"We might not have a minute. When was the security footage from?"

"About half an hour ago. I'm working as fast as I can, here, Cap."

There is tense silence as Tony works. What feels like hours later, he finally exclaims "Got him!" and slides his face plate back down. "Let's go."

* * *

Tony had voted for breaking down the door with the repulsors, but Steve vetoed the idea out of concern they might accidentally injure Spider-man. So instead Steve twists the handle until it breaks and shoves the door open. The four Avengers burst into the apartment, weapons at the ready, and . . . stop.

The single occupant of the room stops as well. Deadpool stands there, comically mid-tiptoe, wearing sweatpants, a hoodie, and fluffy unicorn slippers. His face, free of the mask, registers surprise and his hands clutch a steaming mug of tea and a bowl of soup.

"Well, this is awkward," he says. "No, shut up, we can't throw Spidey's soup at them, then we'd have to make more," he hisses.

"Where is Spider-man?" Steve demands, eyeing Deadpool—who is still holding his mid-tiptoe pose—warily.

"Hm, nope, doesn't ring a bell. No spiders here. Except Widow there. And that one spider I accidentally squished the other day. I felt really bad about it afterwards, 'cause I mean, maybe he thought we were bros just hanging out and sharing an apartment and then suddenly—boom!—giant foot squishing his guts out. And what if he was like Spider-man's cousin or something? That'd be awful. I ruined family reunions!"

"Deadpool!" Clint cuts off his rambling. "What have you done to Spider-man? We know you have him."

"Still no Spideys here! Though I do wish I had him, you know, he has the most fantastic bubble butt! But that beautiful butt is elsewhere, so you'll all have to move along."

Tony aims a repulsor at Deadpool's chest and opens his mouth to retort when a shuffling sound comes from the other room and the door opens, revealing a lanky teen with ruffled bedhead. His torso is wrapped tightly with bandages, gauze practically smothers his left bicep, and his eyes are bleary and unfocussed. He leans against the doorframe and blinks sleepily at Deadpool. "Wade," he whines. "Come back and cuddle with me."

There's a beat or two of silence before everyone starts yelling at once.

"Spider-man?"

"What the fuck!"

"How _old_ are you?"

The teen flinches at the sudden noise and slumps against the doorframe, covering his ears. Deadpool hurries over, discarding the tea and soup on a table, and wraps his arms around the younger boy's waist. "Baby boy, you're supposed to be resting. Back to bed with you."

Natasha finally speaks. "How long have you been dating Deadpool?"

Spider-Man winces again as the yelling resumes.

"What?"

"Seriously, kid? _Deadpool_?"

"The _fuck_ Spidey?"

"Can everyone, like, please stop shouting? I kind of have a concussion and you're not helping."

This manages to calm them down marginally. Well, at least convinces them to stick to inside voices. Mostly.

"Do you need medical attention?" Natasha asks, concern peeking through her calm appearance.

"No, Wade patched me up. I'll be fine in a day or two."

"Okay." Steve takes a deep breath, but Tony cuts him off before he can continue.

"Are you seriously dating _Deadpool_?"

"Yes," the teen declares defensively. "Not that it's any of your business." He leans farther into Deadpool's arms, letting the mercenary take his weight.

Wade leans down to stage-whisper in Spidey's ear. "The boxes are taking bets on which one punches me first. You wanna get in on it? I'm thinking you'll end up punching Tony instead."

Spidey stifles a laugh and swats at Wade lightly. "Not now." He tilts his head to the side. "But my money's on Cap."

"By money you mean chimichangas, right?"

"Four," Spider-man agrees.

"You gonna tell us you're name, kid?" Clint asks, lowering his bow slightly. ("You used the wrong your," Deadpool comments idly, but it went ignored.)

"Wasn't planning on it."

"We're gonna know soon anyway, kid, you might as well," Tony adds. "JARVIS is running facial recognition right now. It might take a bit, but we'll definitely find out."

"Yeah, see, this is why I wasn't gonna tell you. Some people have this thing called privacy that they're rather attached to. And I'm not a kid!"

"Sure, kid, whatever."

Steve sighs. "Is there a particular reason you don't want us to know your identity? If you have someone to protect, we can help."

"Yeah, kid," Clint adds. "You've gotta trust us."

The teen straightens, glaring. "I'm not a kid; I'm eighteen! And I didn't tell you guys because I was afraid you wouldn't let me on the team if I was a minor." His shoulders slump and he shifts his weight from foot to foot. "But I turned eighteen soon after, so it doesn't really matter."

"How soon?" Steve asks.

"Huh?"

"How soon after joining the team did you turn eighteen?"

The teen glances around awkwardly. "Um, about . . . four months?"

Natasha's eyes snap back to Spidey from where they'd been watching Deadpool suspiciously. "Spider-man, it's only been four months. When did you turn eighteen?"

"Um, well, about that."

" _When_?" Steve demands.

"Next week," he mumbles.

" _What_?" the four Avengers yell. Spider-man ducks his face against Deadpool's chest and lets out a pathetic whine.

"Hey," Wade hisses, "concussion, remember? Keep it down for Spidey, will ya?"

The four look suitably chastised, but refuse to back down.

"So you're a minor?" Steve asks, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling sharply.

"Doesn't that make this," Tony gestures to him and Wade, "statutory rape?"

"Okay, first of all," Wade snickers, "if you think this," he hugs Spidey closer, "is statutory rape, you have a fundamental misunderstanding of what sex is."

"And second of all," Spidey adds, "it's none of your fucking business."

"Oh dear God, they're finishing each other's snarky comments," complains Clint. Natasha elbows him.

Steve looks a second away from punching all of them. He takes a deep breath. "Okay, let's focus here. Spider-man—"

"Peter."

"What?"

"My name. It's Peter Parker. I'm pretty sure Tony's gonna know everything about me by tomorrow, so I'd rather tell you that much myself."

"Okay. Peter, why don't we all go back to the Tower and we can check you over in medical."

"Nope!" Peter shakes his head before groaning, realizing that was probably a bad idea. "Gonna go ahead and veto that one. I think I'll stay right here, thank you very much." Wade moves protectively in front of Peter, silently daring anyone to touch him.

"It would be for the best—" Natasha starts, but Peter cuts her off.

"Still not happening."

"Fine. Peter, we obviously need to discuss some things, but perhaps not when you're nursing a concussion and broken ribs."

("See, there's a man who knows how to use the right you're!")

"Only one rib's broken," Peter murmurs defensively.

"Anyway, this" he indicates the four Avengers still standing around with weapons in hand, "is probably not the ideal setting for this conversation. So why don't we reconvene in a few days at the Tower." He sighs again. "I'm not happy that you're putting yourself in danger as a minor, and that you intentionally misled us about your age, but we're not going to kick you off the team."

Tension he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying drains from Peter's shoulders. "Okay. That's . . . yeah, that's good."

"Alright, I think we should probably leave and let Peter rest."

"What the hell, Steve? We're just going to leave the kid with the unstable mercenary?"

"Yes," Natasha says. "We're going to trust Peter. Now go."

"Bye, Arach-kid!" calls Clint as he's shepherded out the door.

"You fuckers made Petey-pie's tea go cold!" Wade yells.

"Concussion, Wade!"

"Whoops."

* * *

A new mug of tea and a lukewarm bowl of soup later, Peter and Wade are curled comfortably together in bed, Wade careful not to jostle Peter's injuries.

"So, that could have gone worse."

Peter groans. "It could have gone a whole hell of a lot better."

Wade hums softly and runs his fingers through Peter's hair. "Do you have to go home?"

"Nah. Aunt May's out of town. I was gonna stay here all weekend."

"Awesome! I'm making pancakes tomorrow, then. And tacos! Nothing better for breakfast than pancakes and tacos!"

Peter laughs and snuggles closer. "Lunch and breakfast all in one. The better way to have brunch."

"The only way to have brunch, Baby Boy!"

Peter kisses Wade lightly and wraps himself around the larger man like an octopus. "Just remember to wake me up in a couple hours."

"Ooh, I can think of a few ways I'd like to wake you up, sweetums."

"Shut up and let me sleep."


End file.
